Someday I know This Pain Will Fade
by The Sorrows of Arlathan
Summary: A happy family torn apart by one man's betrayal: Francesca was never liked by Howe, even when she was a child. As little as he thought of her though, she thought even less of him. Ironic then that her thought's would eventually be filled with nothing more than the man's face after one disastrous day that changed everything she had ever known. (multiple romances/characters/femslash)
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

"Stop it, I warned you two once already! You're ruining your clothes and the Howe's will be here any minute!"

Eleanor Cousland pulled Fergus and little Francesca apart as they began to wrestle each other again. They were standing in the Main Hall of Castle Highever awaiting the arrival of their friends from Amaranthine and the two children just couldn't sit still for a minute. Their giggling ceased immediately as their mother scolded them. Eleanor grabbed them both by the hand and pulled them to either side of her body, putting herself between them.

"He started it!" Francesca complained grumpily. Her dark brown curls fell to her shoulder in little ringlets. She frowned up at her mother, her brown eyes filling up with tears. Eleanor tried not to laugh at how cute Francesca looked when she made that face. Four years old and she was already a little heartbreaker. Francesca tugged uncomfortably at the beautiful pale pink dress her mother had picked out for the occasion.

"Don't pull your dress like that, dear. You'll ruin it and you look really pretty," Eleanor said as she watched the expensive fabric stretch.

"But I don't want to be pretty!" Francesca replied, "I don't like wearing dresses, Mother!"

Eleanor chuckled. Francesca preferred to run around in shirts and breeches all day like her brother. She hated girly things, preferring to play fight with Fergus, swinging the little wooden swords Bryce had made for them. Messing around in the dirt with the other young lads of the Ferelden nobility when they got together at social gatherings was another one of her favourites. More often than not she would come home covered in muck from head to toe.

"You look like an ity-bity princess," Fergus teased her, leaning around his mother and smiling cheekily at his little sister.

"Shut _up_, Fergus!" Francesca moaned, "I don't want to be a princess!"

"Fergus," Eleanor warned, giving him a stern look. The boy was seven years old and getting taller by the day. In a few years he would be trained as a squire, preparing him for life on the battle field when he was older. As Eleanor looked down into his boyish face which so resembled his father Bryce's, she found it hard to believe her sweet little boy would one day lead armies into battle. The thought was unsettling to her. Fergus looked up at his mother innocently.

"Sorry Mother," he said. Teasing his little sister was one of his favourite pastimes. Francesca leaned around her mother and stuck her tongue out at him. Fergus returned the gesture. Eleanor rolled her eyes. She was used to their antics. They normally got on so well but occasionally they would bicker or one of them would begin to torture the other to get a reaction.

"I want you both on your best behaviour today, understood?"

Fergus and Francesca nodded.

"Yes Mother," they droned simultaneously. They had heard the warning so many times before and never once had they heeded it. The last time the Howe's had visited, young Nathaniel left with a bruise on his shin from Fergus, while Delilah and Thomas had hair covered in ink thanks to Francesca pouring it on them from the top of the stairs. Bryce had scolded them both and sent them to their rooms, taking away their wooden swords as a punishment. After several days of being 'good', their swords were returned to them on the condition they would never do it again. They always promised they wouldn't, but both parents knew it wouldn't be long before one of them was caught scribbling on library books, jumping on the bed or messing around in the armoury.

Bryce entered the Main Hall then. Arl Howe was at his side, his latest conquest on his arm, with his children and numerous guards in tow. He was around the same height as Bryce, his black hair greying slightly premature. Rendon Howe had fought alongside Bryce against the Orlesian occupation, under King Maric and Loghain Mac Tir. It was hard to believe it was sixteen years ago that they had drove the Orlesians out of Ferelden. He and Bryce had been inseparable ever since, Bryce being one of the few who knew how to handle Howe's abrasiveness.

"Eleanor! How wonderful to see you again. You look as dashing as ever," Arl Howe exclaimed in his drawling voice as he neared. Eleanor smiled.

"It's nice to see you again too Rendon. Welcome to our home once again," she replied graciously. Howe placed a kiss on either of her cheeks. He gestured to his lady friend.

"This is Lady Sophie of Amaranthine. I count myself lucky to have her on my arm tonight," Howe said, chuckling.

"Thank you for inviting me into your Castle, Teyrna Cousland," Lady Sophie said graciously, bowing a little. Her voice was snide and the look she gave Eleanor unsettled her. She found she disliked the woman almost immediately. Her manners took over though and she forced a smile onto her face.

"Please, make yourself at home, Lady Sophie," she replied, even though she had no idea the woman would be coming. The Couslands were used to the Arl bringing different women to meet them. Little did the women know that they were no more than Howe's play things, but Eleanor had an idea that Lady Sophie was no stranger to swinging on the arms of powerful men.

Arl Howe ushered his three children forward then. His eyes fell on Fergus and little Francesca then.

"Maker's Breath, they're all growing up fast," he said with a chuckle. "It won't be long before your son and mine are competing against each other in tournaments, Bryce!"

Bryce laughed. "I think you forget my daughter as well, Howe."

"Aww yes..." Howe said curiously, turning to look down at Francesca. The look on his face was one of loathing. "The little Cousland spitfire...Maybe you should stick to wearing lovely dresses and looking pretty like my Delilah. Leave the fighting to the boys."

Francesca frowned up at him. "I'm going to learn to fight like my mother," she answered angrily, with a strength and determination that seemed to defy her tender age. The three adults laughed. Bryce and Eleanor looked down at their daughter proudly.

"You can't tell my fierce girl anything, Howe," Bryce said. Francesca looked up at her father, wondering what he meant. He smiled and winked at her affectionately. Her frown turned to a small smile. Howe tried to hide the look of disgust on his face. He didn't believe in women soldiers, believing men to be far superior. His views were quite harsh in Ferelden, where men and women were generally considered as equals in matters of military. Howe looked away from Francesca and jumped into a rambling conversation with Bryce about the Mac Tir's. Eleanor ushered the children into the dining hall as the men talked. Dinner was already waiting for them. After they ate it would be off to bed early so as the adults could enjoy their night. The five of them sat up at the giant table.

"Eat up, children. Nan will be along in a while...and behave!" she added, eyeing Fergus and Francesca in particular. They both smiled innocently back at her like little angels. Eleanor exited the dining room and left them to it.

As soon as her mother was gone Francesca giggled to herself. She picked up a pea from her plate and placed in on her spoon, aiming at Thomas. She pulled the spoon back and let it go, watching the green pea fly through the air and hit Thomas hard on the head.

"OW!" he complained, his hand rubbing the sore spot. Francesca and Fergus burst out laughing. They loved to play pranks on the Howe children. The Howe's gave them dirty looks.

"_I'm_ going to grow up to be a princess," Delilah said turning to Francesca. "_You're_ going to be jealous of me."

Francesca made a face at her. Delilah was the same age as her and they had never got on. She was too girly for Francesca, too boring.

"No I'm not!" Francesca shouted, her temper flaring.

"My sister is going to be a soldier like me," Fergus said to Delilah. "We're going to slay dragons and become heroes and great adventurers!" He turned to his sister and put his arm around her proudly. She smiled up at her older brother. They were the best of friends.

Nathaniel laughed. "Girls can't slay dragons! They're too weak."

"Take that back!" Francesca shouted, leaning over the table at him.

"No!" Nathaniel replied. "I'm older than you. You can't tell me what to do!"

"You're only nine," Fergus said laughing, "I bet I could take you on!"

Nathaniel frowned. "Let's go then, Little Fergy Fergus." Fergus slid off his chair and began to wrestle Nathaniel to the floor. The other three children gathered around to watch. Francesca stood up on her chair.

"Get him Fergus!" she shouted, watching as her brother pinned Nathaniel to the ground. They rolled around on the floor, tangled up. Thomas, Delilah and Francesca began to throw food from their plates at them, laughing loudly.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" they chanted together.

Suddenly the door to the dining room opened. Nan's face turned furious when she saw the scene.

"What do you think you are doing?" she screamed, "Break it up, break it up!"

Nathaniel and Fergus let each other go and went back to their seats, their faces roaring red and their hair standing on end from the tussle. Nan turned to Francesca standing on her chair.

"Sit down young lady! Don't let me see you standing on that chair ever again!" Francesca sat herself back down, looking stony. She hated when Nan scolded her. It was becoming a regular occurrence these days.

"Eat your dinner and then it's off to bed with you all. Don't think I won't tell your parents about this!" Nan shouted at them. She sat herself at the head of the table and watched over the children, making sure they got up to nothing else. It wasn't the first time she had caught Francesca and Fergus misbehaving. They could become quite hyper at times. It was her job to keep a watchful eye on them. She made sure they ate every last bite of their dinner (even the vegetables much to Francesca's dismay) and whisked them off upstairs to bed.

Every night Nan told the children stories until they were asleep. The stories always had useful lessons behind them. She hoped as Fergus and Francesca grew up they would heed their meanings and strive to be the best they could possibly be. As Nan got up to leave she looked down at little Francesca as she slept and smiled to herself. The girl would grow up to be something special, Nan was sure of it. She extinguished the torch on the wall bracket and exited the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

"Ready, set, GO!"

Francesca's long dark hair flew wildly behind her as the wind hit her face. It was her eighth birthday party. She was racing Fergus, Darrien and a few of the squires who had been sent to serve under Teryn Cousland. She could feel the air burn in her lungs as she pushed herself to beat the group of boys beside her. As they neared the finish line she and Fergus began to break away from the pack. They battled hard, competitive as always. As Francesca neared the rope she stuck her head out, crossing before Fergus. The spectators cheered for her. Both she and Fergus fell to the grass exhausted.

"You win sister," Fergus admitted, holding a stitch in his side. Francesca laughed.

"You're not going to say I cheated this time?" she joked. Fergus shook his head.

"I didn't think you had the other times, I just wanted a rematch. But you still beat me!" he said. Francesca groaned. She reached over and punched his arm. He rolled over laughing as she began to attack him.

"I hate you, Fergus!" she shouted as he laughed. They had raced four times before this and she had won every time. She started to laugh herself as she watched Fergus roll around in stitches as she punched every inch of his body she could find. Finally she let her arms drop and got to her feet.

"That was great Francesca!" her friend Roderick Gilmore shouted as he approached. He had red hair and was three years her senior, just like Fergus. His parents had sent him to squire under Bryce and both Francesca and Fergus has become great friends with him.

"Thanks," she replied, smiling. The other boys gathered around and patted her on the back, giving her the respect she was due. Normally boys played pranks on the girls, but Francesca was considered one of the boys and therefore got treated as such. She stared over to the little tables her mother had laid out for her friends towards the group of giggling girls in their bright dresses and lovely shoes, their hair tamed into luscious ringlets adorned with bows or ribbons. Francesca found herself thankful that her mother didn't force her to be like that. She scanned the rest of the garden and found her mother, talking to a few of the noble women who had brought their children. Eleanor caught her gaze and smiled at her daughter proudly. Francesca smiled back and waved at her.

"Let's have a sword fight!" Fergus shouted. The young squires took their swords out at once. The blades were small and mainly ceremonial. They were blunt to stop them from causing any real damage. Francesca groaned.

"I wish I had one!" she said longingly, staring at Fergus' jealously.

"Here, have a go with mine," Gilmore said, holding out the handle to her. Francesca's eyes lit up.

"Really?" she exclaimed. Her friend nodded. She reached out and took it from him. The feeling was indescribable as she held her first real sword. It was heavier than she expected. She swung it a few times, feeling the weight swipe through the air, hearing the swish of her strokes.

"Wow!" she gasped. Fergus held up his sword.

"Let's duel sister," he said, getting into his stance. He had been training for a few years now, learning the basics for when he was older. Francesca smiled and relaxed into a stance of her own.

"Be careful you two!" Their father shouted from across the garden as he watched them square off. "I know how competitive you can get."

The other boys formed a circle as Francesca and Fergus faced each other.

"You're not going to win this time, Francesca!" Fergus exclaimed, "I'll admit that you can run faster than me, but I've been trained in sword play. I'm better than most in my class."

Francesca's eyes narrowed. "I know," she said, "But I've been watching you train. I know your moves brother."

Fergus lunged at her trying to catch her unawares. Francesca held her sword defensively and felt the force of his blade hit hers. As much as she hated to admit it, her brother was stronger than her. He was eleven and she was eight. She could already feel the weight of the small blade tire her arm.

Fergus lunged again. This time he over shot. Francesca blocked his swing and tripped his outstretched foot with her own. He fell to the ground.

"That's not fair!" Fergus exclaimed, angry and a little embarrassed, "You're not allowed to use your feet!"

"How was I to know?" Francesca answered. Fergus got to his feet and fell into his offensive stance. He attacked a lot more now, trying to redeem himself. Francesca backed away, blocking his numerous swings with her blade. Suddenly she felt his sword hit her leg. Her hand dropped to it and her brother rested his sword at her unprotected neck.

"Wham, you're dead!" he said proudly, "You shouldn't have let your guard down, little sister. That wasn't bad for your first try though."

"Again," Francesca insisted, getting to her feet.

"Let someone else have a turn!" one of the other boys complained.

"One more," Francesca said grumpily. She hated loosing.

"It's her birthday, Darrien!" Gilmore shouted. The other boys nodded in agreement and they circled around them once more.

Francesca eased into an offensive stance this time. She stared into her brothers eyes, trying to anticipate his moves. He swung at her a few times but she easily blocked. The third time Fergus attacked she saw his weak spot. He may have been stronger but she was quicker. Dodging his swing she lunged forwards with her sword and poked him in the ribs with hers.

"Ow!" Fergus exclaimed. "You're not supposed to really hit, Francesca!"

Francesca smiled victoriously. "I win!" she shouted as Fergus doubled over on the ground holding his ribs.

"Well done daughter!" Bryce exclaimed as everyone clapped. Francesca turned. She didn't realise her father, and most of the adults had been watching her. She smiled at him. He walked into middle of the circle and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I think we'll have to see about you getting a sword of your own," he said.

"Really!?" Francesca shouted excitedly. Bryce nodded, smiling at the happiness on his little daughter's face.

"Let me speak with your mother about it, maybe for your next birthday. For now though, give Ser Gilmore his sword back," he replied. Francesca reluctantly handed Gilmore back his sword and reached out a hand to help her brother to his feet.

"Good girl," her father said. "And well done. You are both going to be formidable opponents when you grow up." He ruffled both their hairs, brimming with pride at his children and walked over to his wife, leaving them to continue playing their game.

* * *

"Why won't Fergus play with me any more?"

Francesca looked up from her book at her mother. They were sitting in the Cousland family's giant library, Eleanor overlooking her daughter's education, making sure she wasn't slacking off again. Francesca hated studying boring old history books. More often that not she would sneak of to the courtyard to practice with her sword. Her mother was making her read the history of the Cousland family in order to know her roots. Every Cousland child had to begin their studies when they turned eleven.

Eleanor looked down at her daughter. Her children were growing up so quick that she wondered where the years had gone. Fergus was already fourteen and beginning proper training for the army he would one day lead in his father's stead. He had since out grown his sister's company and began to hang around with the older men. Francesca wasn't taking it well. Her brother had been her best friend since she was born. Eleanor sighed, feeling sorry for her.

"Fergus is growing up dear. You need to give him time to find his feet," she answered kindly. Francesca frowned.

"He's boring now!" she answered, exhaling, "All he wants to do is talk about girls."

Eleanor laughed. Fergus had come of the age where he had stopped thinking girls were "smelly" and started to show interest in them. Francesca was still too young to understand. Her brother didn't want to loose his credibility by hanging around with his younger sister all the time.

"We all have to grow up some time, my love. I know it's hard. Sooner or later though I'm sure you'll start to look at boys a little..._differently _than you do now."

Francesca screwed her face up in confusion. "Like...through a telescope?" she asked innocently.

Eleanor held in her laugh. She didn't want to offend the poor child. It was good that she wasn't afraid to ask questions and her parents wanted to encourage the habit.

"Not quite," her mother answered, smiling kindly. "You're a bit too young at the minute to understand. We'll talk more soon though, I promise."

Francesca, still looking confused, shrugged and returned to her book. She had no idea what her mother was talking about. In her eyes, Fergus was changing too much. His voice sounded funny now and he had a habit of ruffling his hair as girls walked by. Every time a girl passed them in the market he would stop talking to Francesca immediately and push her to one side as though they weren't related. Francesca had punched him in the ribs a few times after he did this but her blows didn't seem to hurt him any more. He was getting too strong for her.

After reading the same sentence three times, Francesca dropped the book.

"Can I stop now Mother?" she pleaded.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine," she answered, taking the book from her daughter, "Go and play. Gilmore's fighting in the courtyard if you want to watch."

Francesca's eyes lit up. She never missed watching a swordfight, not if she could help it. She pulled out the small dagger her father had given her for her ninth birthday, swinging it a few times as though felling imaginary opponents, and then ran out of the library excitedly.

"Pointy end at the ground when you run, Francesca!" her mother shouted after her, "I've told you before! You'll put your eye out!"

Francesca stopped and looked back at her mother apologetically. She pointed her sword at the ground and turned on her heel, racing out of the library as fast as she could. Eleanor watched her go, smiling to herself. The other noble women had asked Eleanor on occasion if she wish Francesca was more "civilized" and "lady-like" as they put it. In truth, Eleanor preferred her daughter the way she was. Francesca reminded her of how she had been when she was younger. Eleanor had always been interested in battle and her parents had allowed her to train when she was old enough. She was sure that Francesca would want the same. The girl would have trained now if she could. So was so eager.

Bryce had talked about it to his wife, but Eleanor believed that eleven was still too young for martial training. Francesca wasn't going to be leading armies any time soon, being the youngest child, so her mother wanted to give her more time to experience her childhood. Francesca had seemed to pick up quite a bit of skill already though. As Eleanor watched her go so couldn't help thinking that Bryce had a point. Maybe now was the time to teach her properly. With power and knowledge came responsibility. Better to teach her that while she was still young enough to understand. Many full grown adults even had problems grasping that lesson. Eleanor was sure that her children were destined for great things though. She and Bryce had raised them well. They had promising futures ahead of them both.


	2. Chapter 2

"Francesca what are you looking at?"

Eleanor's voice wakened Francesca from her day dream. She turned to her left where her mother sat staring at her expectantly. They were waiting eagerly with the rest of the crowd of nobles on the bleachers, for the final of Ferelden's Grand Tourney to begin. Everyone was chattering excitedly about the two finalists: Fergus Cousland and Nathaniel Howe, the young newcomers who had defeated the tournament's veterans against all odds and were now getting ready to do battle to become the Champion. Francesca had little interest in their predictions. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that her brother would win the fight. He had been beating Nathaniel at everything even from they were little. Why would today be any different? It wasn't that Nathaniel was a bad duellist, Fergus was just better. Nathaniel had a weak defence and Fergus had been the strongest in the competition so far.

Bored by the noble's endless chatter, she had taken to scanning the crowd for familiar faces and there was one who had caught her attention. She had been staring in the direction of Lady Landra and her son Darrien who were sitting a few places down on the left. Her mother followed her gaze.

"Oh I see..." she said smugly. Francesca frowned.

"See what, Mother?" she asked confused. Her mother threw her a knowing smile.

"I see young Darrien has caught your attention at last," Eleanor replied. Francesca's frown deepened.

"What?" she exclaimed. Her mother chuckled.

"There's no use playing coy with me darling. I know the boy has a thing for you. Landra told me."

Francesca cringed. Since Fergus had gotten married to Oriana, Eleanor had started to focus more on her daughter's love life. It was her favourite topic these days. Eleanor and Bryce were eager for her to get married as well but Francesca had little interest in such things. She enjoyed her freedom too much.

Francesca shook her head. "I'm not interested in Darrien, Mother. He's not my type."

Little did Eleanor know, Francesca had already gone there with Darrien a few months ago at a party thrown by Fergus. She knew little of Francesca's conquests as Francesca preferred to keep them from her parent's attention. After one unimpressive night together she had found Darrien was definitely not to her taste. Although not completely unfortunate looking, he lacked the adventure, stamina and sense of danger and desire to keep her entertained. Eleanor did not give up though.

"Oh come now, darling. Darrien's a handsome lad. You two share many similar interests. Why don't I speak with him and organise an evening for you two?"

Francesca's eyes widened. "Absolutely not, Mother! I can handle my own affairs."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "All evidence to the contrary. If you're not interested then who in all of Thedas have you been staring at for the past ten minutes?"

Who? That was the question. For on Lady Landra's other side sat a well dressed elven woman, relaxing, gazing up at the clear blue sky, waiting for the competition to resume. Her blonde hair was braided at the sides and pulled back into a small knot at the back of her head, while the rest of it fell just past her shoulders. Her skin was pale and seemed to almost shine in the midday sun which looked down upon the Grand Tourney. The delicate golden dress she wore was what had caught Francesca's attention as it reflected in the sunlight. Francesca had no love for dresses herself, but it was what was underneath that interested her. She scanned the low neckline of the elf's attire before allowing her gaze to travel down along the woman's perfectly formed curves and along the outline of her legs which she had crossed as she sat. Francesca had seen elves before, but never one like this. While elves were naturally very attractive it was nothing to how this woman looked. She was without doubt the most beautiful vision Francesca had ever set eyes on.

Eleanor's voice brought her back to her senses again.

"Francesca?" she exclaimed, following her daughter's gaze again, wondering what had distracted her from their conversation once more. "_Who_ are you looking at?"

Francesca didn't look away. "Who is the elven woman sitting at Lady Landra's side?" she asked, trying not to sound too interested. "I have never seen her before."

Her mother leaned forwards, looking to her left. Finally her eyes found who Francesca's eyes had been transfixed on during the entire intermission.

"Ah," she said, nodding her head, "That's Landra's Lady-in-waiting. I believe her name is Iona."

"Iona," Francesca repeated slowly. Her mother turned back to her, a suspicious look on her face.

"Why do you ask, darling?"

Francesca tore her gaze away from the woman with difficulty and stared down at the empty ring where the fight was to take place. She avoided her mother's questioning stare, shrugging.

"No reason, Mother. I was simply curious."

She could feel her mother's eyes on her, trying to gauge her expression. Finally there was some action on the ground, rescuing Francesca from her mother's suspicion. Fergus and Nathaniel were making their way to the ring. The arrival of her son and the cheers from the crowd distracted Eleanor and she stood to clap with the rest of the nobles. Francesca exhaled with relief. That was too close. Though she was careful and secretive with her sexual exploits she had a feeling her mother was not oblivious to them. Fergus was the only one who was aware though. He knew that Francesca had shared her bed with not only men, but also women.

Francesca had no desire to tell her parents. She saw no reason to. Truth be told, she liked people not knowing. There was a certain thrill to sneaking around which she thoroughly enjoyed, sometimes more than the act of sex itself. Her parents didn't need to know and she was in no rush to tell them. Francesca had a feeling though, that if they didn't know already, they would soon find out. She stole another quick glance at the beautiful elven woman once more, feeling something inside her that she had never experienced before. It scared her, but also invigorated her. She tore her gaze from the woman reluctantly and stood up with the others to cheer on the Grand Tourney finalists as the duel began.

The duel lasted all but twenty minutes before Fergus Cousland was victorious. It was a thrilling fight. The crowd cheered and howled, gasping with the rest as Nathaniel finally began to fight back. It looked as though he was about to steal the fight unexpectedly, before Fergus threw a beautiful combination at him and he landed on his back with Fergus' blade at his throat. Francesca stood along with the King and the rest of the nobles and cheered for her brother. She had never been so proud of him.

King Cailen and Queen Anora entered the ring then signalling the end of the Grand Tourney. Francesca and her mother left their seats and went to congratulate Fergus, how had reached out a hand to help Nathaniel to his feet. Nathaniel accepted and the two shook hands. As Francesca neared she heard them speak.

"Well fought, my friend," Nathaniel said. He smiled at Fergus, knowing full well that he had been out of his league. Fergus laughed.

"For a moment there I thought you had me!" he said laughing. Nathaniel laughed too.

"For a moment there I thought I did too. The best man won in the end though," Nathaniel replied. He laughed and slapped Fergus on the back. Francesca ran towards her brother.

"Well done, Fergus!" she shouted excitedly, "I knew you'd do it!"

Fergus hugged her tightly, almost lifting her up off the ground. "Thank you, Little Sister. You always have my back."

Francesca smiled as they pulled apart. "As long as you know I can still kick your ass, Champion or not."

The nobles surrounding them laughed at her joke, none more so than Fergus. They all knew full well that Francesca's prowess with a blade was impressive. Some had even questioned why she wasn't allowed in the Grand Tourney. Her mother had forbid her though, much to her dismay. Her parent's wanted her to learn some social graces to accompany her fighting skills. "Sometimes words are better than violence, Pup," her father had told her. She reluctantly accepted his words with little fuss. There was no denying his logic.

Bryce patted his son's shoulder, beaming proudly at him. "You'll be a fine General someday son."

"Thank you, Father. I hope some day to be as good as-"

"This is an outrage!"

The nobles chatter stopped immediately and they turned their heads in the direction of the edge of the ring. Rendon Howe was storming towards them like a raging bull, his face furious and red with anger. He walked right up to Fergus and squared up to him.

"I demand a rematch!" he yelled in his face. Fergus just laughed and waved him off. Bryce walked forwards as the nobles whispered amongst themselves at Howe's reaction.

"Come now, Howe!" he said holding out his arms in peace, "My son won fair and square. Nathaniel fought very well."

Howe shook Bryce's hand off his shoulder, still glaring at Fergus.

"This isn't over!" he spat. "Nathaniel should have won. This is a fix!"

Fergus, still smiling, placed a calming hand on Arl Howe's shoulder. Howe pushed him back roughly and the crowd gasped at his hostility. The smile slipped from Fergus' face at Howe's abrasiveness. Before he could react, Arl Howe's hand had curled into a fist and he swung it in Fergus' direction. Francesca, the quickest to react, stepped in between them. She blocked Howe's punch with her arm, feeling his heavy armour rip the sleeve of her dress as it connected painfully with her arm. She reached out and shoved him with all the force she could muster. There was outrage from the crowd as Howe stumbled backwards and landed on his ass in the dust.

"Francesca!" Eleanor shouted as the crowd gasped. A deafening silence took hold of the Grand Tourney. Francesca stared down at Howe with loathing. His face looked like it was ready to explode underneath his ruffled hair. He growled and got to his feet.

"You bitch!" he shouted, charging towards her. He went for the sword at his waist as Francesca stood defiantly in front of him. Before he could pull it out a hand grabbed his arm.

"Father!" Nathaniel shouted in shock. "What in the Maker's name are you doing!?"

Fergus, Bryce and King Cailen moved forward at once, putting bodies between Howe and Francesca as Howe tried to reach her. Arguments broke out at once as more men joined the fray, trying to calm him down. Francesca stood rooted to the spot. She could feel her arm throb in pain where Howe's armor had pierced her skin. She stood breathing heavily, feeling the adrenaline rush through her entire body making her legs go weak. The surrounding nobles stared at her in disbelief. Suddenly her mother was at her side and a few other women as the men beside them argued. Francesca could hear Fergus' outraged voice as he tried to fight through the soldiers to get to Howe, Bryce holding him back.

"Francesca, are you alright?" Eleanor asked worriedly. Her voice sounded like it was leagues away. Francesca turned to look at her mother, and then scanned the shocked faces of the crowd surrounding them, all eyes transfixed on her. Queen Anora, Lady Isolde, Lady Sophie, Ser Gilmore, Oriana, Bann Teagan, Bann Alfstanna, Darrien, Lady Landra and _her. _The beautiful elf Iona stood open mouthed as she tried to process, like the others, what Francesca had just done. Francesca tried to catch her breath. She tore her gaze from all of them and released herself from her mother's grasp and ran towards the Royal Palace.

"Francesca!" her mother called after her.

She didn't stop. She had to get away from all the judgemental stares. Never, as far as she knew, had a woman ever lifted her had to a nobleman, let alone an Arl, and especially not in front of the entire noble community and the King and Queen. She didn't know what came over her. It was instinct. She had saw Howe raise his hand and jumped in to protect her brother. _Stupid! _She cursed herself._ Fergus can take care of himself._ She ran as fast as her legs would take her, still feeling eyes on her as she ran. The elf Iona's face popped into her mind. _She looked terrified of me. _Forcing the image from her mind she made her way towards the Royal Palace where the after celebrations were to take place.

* * *

A few hours later the Great Hall began to fill with nobles for the feast, celebrating the Champion. Francesca sat at a table in the corner and avoided them all. She could hear them whispering about her as they passed.

"The nerve..."

"...Can't believe Howe's reaction..."

"...That girl is unstable..."

"..._So_ unladylike..."

"...Bryce needs to keep that one on a tighter leash..."

Francesca stared into her empty mug as though wishing it would magically fill up with ale. Suddenly a shadow appeared, blocking the light from the nearby lanterns. Fergus was standing over her, smiling sympathetically, holding two mugs of ale in his hand. He offered her one and sat down on the chair opposite her.

"Are you alright? He asked. Francesca shrugged and drunk her ale. They sat in silence for several minutes.

"Where's Howe?" she asked.

"Ready for round two already?" Fergus teased. Francesca sighed and chuckled slightly. Fergus always did a good job of trying to cheer her up. "Listen...Don't worry about it, Sister. Howe was out of line. Everyone could see that. He always was a sore loser."

"He's an idiot," Francesca replied, drinking more ale. Fergus chuckled in agreement. "But I shouldn't have done it."

She placed her mug back on the table a little too forcefully.

"Hey!" Fergus said, noticing her frustration. He placed a hand on her arm. "I would have done the same thing. I appreciate what you tried to do."

Francesca looked up at him, a small smile playing on the corner of her mouth. "Well I didn't think you could handle another Howe. Nathaniel was all over you in that fight...Would have been a shame to let them get the better of you twice in one day."

Fergus laughed his familiar bark. "Hey! I won didn't I?"

Francesca laughed. "Just barely," she teased.

They joked together for an hour or so before their mother and father came to join them.

"Give us a minute, darling," Eleanor said to Fergus. Fergus threw one last glance at Francesca before taking his leave. Bryce and Eleanor sat themselves at the table. Francesca braced herself.

"Look I know, alright?" she shouted before they could speak. They both stared at her disappointedly.

"Pup..." her father began, "That was reckless, even for you."

"In front of the King, darling, what were you thinking?" Eleanor scolded, shaking her head in disbelief. Francesca dropped her gaze, ashamed. She swivelled the mug on the table, watching the ale slush against the sides.

"Stop fidgeting, Pup, and look at us," Bryce said. She reluctantly stared into her father's eyes. There was no anger there, just disappointment. And that hurt so much worse.

"Sorry Father," she said.

"I understand why you did it, Francesca," he said softly. "But it was still wrong."

"We're not the ones you have to apologise to, darling," her mother said. Francesca looked up at her. She nodded her head towards the top table where Arl Howe sat with Nathaniel, King Cailen and Lady Sophie.

"What!?" Francesca exclaimed, unable to believe her ears. "You can't be serious!"

"Don't strain my patience Francesca!" he father scolded, flaring up at once and getting to his feet. "You know it's the right thing to do."

Francesca jumped to her feet to meet him, anger and injustice boiling in her veins. "He started it! I'm not going to degrade myself by apologising to that piece of scum!"

"Francesca!" he mother admonished, standing up with them both. More people beside them began to stare. Francesca threw her parents two looks of disgust and could tell she had pushed them too far. She reluctantly made her way over to Arl Howe's table, feeling the eyes of the nobles on her as she did so. Her mother and father threw her warnings from across the room. She knew what they were saying: "Behave yourself."

The occupants at the King's table looked up at her as she approached.

"Excuse me, Arl Howe," she said through gritted teeth. Howe pursed his lips and turned slowly to stare up at her. She could see the resentment in his eyes. Francesca bit her tongue.

"Well, well..." Howe drawled, "If it isn't the Cousland spitfire..."

"Francesca," she corrected firmly. Howe grunted, eyeing her with distaste. He knew fine rightly what her name was. He just never gave her the respect of calling her by it. Her parent's threw her another warning.

"To what do I owe the..._pleasure_?" Howe continued, his eyes lighting up with glee. He knew full well why she was standing in front of him. He had counted on it. Francesca's jaw tightened.

"I've come to...to apologise," she managed to say. Howe couldn't control his satisfied smile.

"For what?" he asked. Francesca could feel herself get angrier. She had a feeling he was going to milk this for all it was worth. He loved making her feel like nothing more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"You know what!" she replied, before she could stop herself. Her temper was coming to the surface once more. She saw her mother roll her eyes.

"That doesn't sound like an apology to me," Howe drawled. Francesca exhaled. _Let's just get this over with._

"I'm sorry for..._attacking_ you, Arl Howe. _I_ was out of order." _And so were you _she finished in her head. The look Howe gave her was as if he had read her mind. He chose to ignore it though and held out his hand, a giant ruby ring hanging on one of his fat fingers. Francesca's jaw tightened once more. Grudgingly she bent down and kissed the giant ring. An evil, satisfied smile appeared on Howe's face as Francesca straightened up. Everyone in the entire palace was staring at her. She had never felt so humiliated in her entire life.

"Apology accepted," Howe said loudly, making sure even the people at the back of the hall knew what she had just done. Francesca turned on her heel, the man's smug face burned into her mind. The crowed went back to their drinks and the chatter started up again. As Francesca approached her parents her mother reached out to her.

"Well done, darling I'm prou-"

"Save it!" Francesca replied bitterly, dodging her mother's outstretched arm without looking at her. She stormed towards the nearest door, feeling tears build in her eyes. When she reached the hallway she made her way to the giant staircase and sunk onto one of the steps. The tears burned in her eyes, before falling down her face before she could control them. She sniffed, wrapping her arms around her legs and hugging them tightly.

That was the most degrading thing she had ever done. The entire palace was looking and Howe enjoyed every second of it. She was furious her parents had made her apologise. Howe was the one in the wrong and everyone knew it. Just because he was an Arl she had to take all the blame. All she had done was step in to protect her brother. Now the Arl was playing the victim, while her arm was still pouring with blood.

She sniffed again as more tears streamed down her face and examined the open wound on her left forearm. The sleeve had completely fallen apart now and the fabric was stained with blood. She could feel the cut pulsing as more blood oozed out of it. It stung slightly but it was nothing she couldn't handle. After all, she had suffered worse injuries in her time. The worst being a giant sword wound which stretched the length of the left side of her back. She and Fergus had been travelling to Redcliffe by caravan a few years ago when they were ambushed by bandits. They managed to fight them off but not unscathed. Now she was left with a giant scar for her troubles. She didn't mind though. In her opinion, scars added character to a person. There was always a great story behind them. The bigger the scar, the luckier it appeared you were to still be alive.

Francesca continued to examine the damage done to her arm. She realised this scar would have a different story though: One of humiliation. Suddenly Fergus entered the hallway. He walked over and sat on the step beside her. Noticing her tears he placed an arm around her shoulder.

"Don't cry, Little Sister. That was a decent thing you did," he said.

"He didn't deserve it!" she cried, "He's a sly bastard who doesn't deserve his title!"

Fergus chuckled. "I agree. The nobles aren't very happy with him right now, I'll tell you. I think he lost some of his sympathisers just now after that little spectacle he made of you."

"It was mortifying," Francesca said. "I feel sick for doing it."

Fergus tightened his arm around her shoulder. "One of these days, he'll get what's coming to him. Don't you worry, Sister."

"I hate him, Fergus. I don't understand why Father even-"

The doorway to the Great Hall opened and to Francesca's surprise, the elven lady Iona entered the hallway. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw Francesca crying on the stairs, Fergus with his arm around her.

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry, My Lady!" she exclaimed. Her voice was gentle and caring. Up close, Francesca realised she looked more beautiful than ever. _Great _she thought to herself, _and I'm sitting collapsed onto a step crying my eyes out. _Feeling even more embarrassed than before she raised her head from Fergus' shoulder and wiped her tears.

"Its fine, Iona," Fergus said, straightening up. He got to his feet. "Would you mind keeping my sister company while I get something to clean her wound with?"

Francesca cringed. _Thanks Fergus. _

"Of course, My Lord," she said earnestly. Fergus bowed his head in thanks and re-entered the Great Hall. Iona walked cautiously towards the stairs and sat herself down beside Francesca. Francesca tried not to look at her. She hated people seeing her cry, never mind people she was attracted to. She could feel Iona's eyes on her.

"Are you ok, My Lady?" she asked gently. Francesca nodded, staring down at the marble stair below her.

"Francesca" she corrected. She hated being called "My Lady". More so now, since she had proved to everyone that she was anything but.

"I apologise, Francesca. My name is Iona. I am Lady Landra's handmaiden," she said.

"You know my brother?" Francesca asked, gesturing to where Fergus had left. Iona nodded.

"Darrien and I had drinks with him and his wife Oriana earlier. He's a nice man," she said. "He fought very well today."

Francesca, with nothing else to say, simply nodded. A moment of silence passed between them. _Where in the Maker name is was Fergus? _This wasn't the way she had wanted to meet Iona, broken, sitting helplessly on her own because the nobles disapproved of her.

"You don't have to sit with me, you know," Francesca blurted out, "I'll be fine."

"It's no trouble," Iona replied kindly, "Truth be told I would rather be out here then in there. Not many nobles approve of elves, you see. Their staring makes me uncomfortable."

Francesca sighed. "I know _exactly _what you mean."

Iona looked back at her. "I'm sorry," she said, "That was horrible what happened to you earlier. The Arl...I apologise, forget I mentioned it."

Francesca looked up at her confused. "Apologise for what?" she asked.

Iona hesitated. "I'm an elf," she stated, "It would be unwise of me to speak openly about what transpired."

Francesca frowned. She could see Iona had an opinion of today's events. She could also see the fear in her eyes as she almost let them slip out in front of a human noblewoman.

"You can tell me," she said. Iona hesitated again.

"Forgive me, My Lady. I spoke out of term," she said, lowering her eyes.

Francesca's frowned deepened. _Is she afraid of me? _

"I value people's opinions, no matter what their race," she said, unhappy to be pigeonholed by other human's ignorance and prejudice. "You may speak freely in front of me, Iona. You have nothing to fear."

Iona looked up at her surprised. Never once before had she heard a human speak to her as though she was an equal. Lady Landra had been good to her and her family and elevated her position. She never treated her badly but never once had she asked to hear her opinion on the day's matters. She smiled at Francesca in awe.

"I...well... I was just going to say that...The Arl should not have treated you like that. It was nice of you to apologise even though he was the one to blame and instead of accepting...he made an example out of you..."Her voice trailed off, fearful others had heard her.

Francesca's mouth fell open slightly as she took in Iona's words. Finally someone had said what she was feeling inside. She stared into the elf's blue eyes, feeling the same feeling rise up inside her that she had felt earlier when she set eyes on her at the Grand Tourney.

"I'd like to get to know you better," she blurted out. Iona chuckled slightly.

"I am an open book, my lady. What would you like to know?" she asked. Just then Fergus entered the hallway carrying a needle, gauze and a bottle of ointment. _Nice timing, brother. _He made his way towards them. Iona got to her feet and left Fergus sit in her vacated spot.

"Well...I must get back to the party," she said reluctantly. She threw Francesca a smile and walked back to the Great Hall. Francesca watched her go sadly. At least something good had come out of this day. She exhaled. Fergus looked up at her, a knowing smile on his face.

"I thought you two might get along," he said, his grin getting wider.

"What do you mean?" Francesca asked curiously. Her brother chuckled.

"Oriana and I had drinks with Iona earlier. She seemed quite interested in you."

Francesca groaned. "You set this up didn't you?" she asked annoyed. To her surprise Fergus laughed even more.

"Of course not, Sister! I know you prefer to handle your own love life. It was simply coincidence that Iona appeared while I was here. All I did was...give you both some time to talk." When Francesca looked confused he continued. " I had the things to clean your would in my bag the whole time." He continued to chuckle to himself as he began to wrap the bandage around Francesca's arm. Francesca groaned and punched him playfully on the arm. She found it hard to stay upset when her brother was around.

"All done!" Fergus said moments later. He stood up. "Come on, Little Sister. There's ale to be drunk and woman to be had...or men...or what ever you fancy these days..." They both laughed as Francesca allowed her brother to help her to her feet. He ruffled her dark brown hair and led her back into the Great Hall, bringing her to a table with Ser Gilmore, Oriana and a few other people she didn't recognise.

"Darrien, Iona and Landra have gone home early," Oriana informed them as they sat down. "They had to pour Lady Landra into the carriage she was so drunk!" The crowd around the table laughed. Lady Landra was famous for her inability to hold her drink. As she laughed, Francesca felt a pang of sadness. She had hoped to talk to Iona more. She shook the idea from her head. There would be time enough for that later. Landra and Eleanor were the best of friends after all. It wouldn't be long before she would visit them in Highever. Instead of brooding, she accepted the drink Fergus handed her and joined in the fun with the others.

* * *

After a few hours the party began to disperse to their rooms. Only the younger generation remained. Francesca was getting pretty drunk and could feel all that had transpired that day thankfully fall to the back of her mind. She actually managed to enjoy herself. Her brother was responsible for that. They drank the barrels dry and sang and joked until the small hours. Right now though, Fergus and Oriana were joined at the lips and so Francesca took to scanning the remaining guests, Ser Gilmore having passed out on the chair beside her. His head was lolling from side to side slightly as he breathed, a drop of saliva hanging out of his open mouth.

Francesca recognised a few familiar faces in the crowd of nobles and a few former conquests. Her eyes examined the remaining men, sizing them up, comparing them. After several minutes, dissatisfied and seeing none that were to her taste, she began to scan the women instead. Just as she was about to give up her eyes found a pretty brunette looking utterly bored, standing up against the wall as a man tried to hit on her. Francesca smiled to herself and knocked back the remainder of her drink before getting to her feet and approaching the woman. As she got closer she could hear the man's feeble attempts at getting her attention. She stopped to observe.

"How about it, baby...Me and you, upstairs, my room..." he said in what he deemed to be a sexy voice. The brunette woman cringed at his ale breath.

"Ugh! not even if you paid me," she complained, pressing her back further into the wall to avoid the smell. The man grunted.

"Well, that can be arranged, Sweetheart. How much we talking?" He began to make advance towards her, his hand running along her waist. He leaned in for a kiss. Francesca had heard enough. She closed the distance between them.

"Hey!" she shouted. The man turned to face her. His eyes lit up as they took in the other pretty woman beside him. Drawn in by Francesca's seductive stare, he let go of the brunette and walked unsteadily towards her. She smiled as he got close and tried to kiss her. As soon as he did she brought her knee up in between his legs and kneed him in the balls hard.

"OWW!" the man shouted. He collapsed to the floor, cursing her. Francesca laughed and stepped over him. She walked towards the woman.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked. The woman smiled at her in amazement. She considered the request, her eyes scanning Francesca's body in one swift movement.

"Why not?" she said.

Francesca smiled and they walked to the nearest table. She stopped a passing waiter and took two glasses of champagne from his tray.

"Thank you," the woman said. "For the drink...and for before." She gestured to the incapacitated man with her head. Francesca smiled.

"Sometimes you just need a woman's touch," she replied smoothly. The woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she got her meaning. Then her smiled grew wider. _That was easy, _Francesca thought to herself. Suddenly she began to reconsider. She liked a challenge and had assumed this would be one. Feeling a bit disappointed she began to scan the room again as the woman introduced herself and began to talk. After several minutes Francesca realised she hadn't been listening to a word she had said. It was only when the woman brushed her foot along Francesca's leg seductively that she got her attention. Francesca turned back to her. The woman was staring at her hungrily, biting her lip as she tried to entice her. She could feel the women's bare foot make its way up her calf and along her thigh.

"What do you say we take this upstairs?" the woman asked. Francesca almost rolled her eyes. _How exciting. _Bedrooms were a bit confining for what she had in mind. As the woman's foot began to travel up the inside of her leg she made up her mind though. She tossed the rest of the champagne into her mouth and took the woman's outstretched hand, allowing her to lead them out into the hallway. They made their way upstairs and along the long corridor which led to the guest rooms. The corridor was lined with columns which zigzagged along with little inlets. As the woman tried to lead her down the hall Francesca grew impatient. She pulled the woman's outstretched hand into one of the inlets and pushed her roughly against the wall, pressing her body up against hers.

The woman looked shocked at Francesca's sudden dominance over her. She didn't realise she had been in Francesca's power the entire time and only now did she choose to exert it. Francesca stared into her eyes, seductively licking her bottom lip as she did so. The woman's face became serious as she realised she was powerless to resist. Francesca could almost feel the anticipation radiating off her. Slowly she leaned in, allowing her left hand to travel down the woman's leg. Their lips brushed lightly, then passionately. Francesca raised the woman's leg off the ground with her hand and found the hem of her dress. She slid her fingers underneath and began to lead them back up the woman's soft skin, pulling the dress with her as she did so. The woman's eager breaths became harsher as Francesca's right hand reached under the dress from the other side and got to work.

"Oh Maker!" the woman whined, jerking under Francesca's magical touch. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she bit her lip, trying to hold back her moans. They were in the middle of a corridor. If anyone walked out of their rooms to see what the noise was they would be discovered. The chance of being caught turned Francesca on though. She loved the sense of danger. Her lips caressed along the woman's collar bone as she continued to pleasure her below. The woman had wrapped her arms around her tightly and was pulling her further in. Francesca let out a satisfied giggled as she saw the emotion on the woman's face. That equal sense of pain and pleasure that Francesca could so easily turn to her will.

The woman, unable to stay quiet any longer, cried out loudly as she reached her orgasm. Francesca laughed quietly as they both tried to catch their breaths. Suddenly one of the nearby rooms opened. Francesca raised her finger to the woman's lips silencing her. They both froze, their bodies pressed tightly together as someone called out.

"Who's there?"

Francesca muffled her laugh. It was Arl Eamonn. She could only imagine the look on her father's friend's face if he saw her pressed up against a sweating, hyperventilating woman with her hand up her dress. She held her breath as she heard his heavy footsteps walk past the column inlet which they were hiding on the other side of. The woman at her mercy looked anxious but for Francesca, this was part of the thrill. She heard Arl Eamonn's footsteps pace the corridor before walking back towards his room. After a second of silence the door snapped shut.

Waiting several minutes to make sure he was gone, Francesca then released the brunette woman and laughed quietly. She readjusted her dress which the woman's hands had dislodged slightly as the woman pulled down her skirt and did the same. She was smiling at Francesca.

"That was amazing!" she whispered, still trying to find her breath. She pushed of the wall and kissed Francesca on the lips, wanting more. Francesca pulled back.

"I have to go," she said. The woman's face fell.

"But what about you?" she said disappointedly. She ran her finger along Francesca's cheek before tracing the outline of her breast through her dress. Francesca turned her back to her and shrugged.

"I'm a giver..." she said, winking at her before turning and heading back to her room.

She could feel the woman's disappointed eyes on her as she walked. She knew she could have stayed with her but what for? The woman got what she wanted and so did Francesca. The problem with Francesca's sexual encounters though was that she always left the person wanting more. Her sexual talents, however little she chose to exert, always hit the spot. She was yet to find someone who could take her to the same place emotionally, physically or otherwise. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that this woman would have tried to return the favour, but Francesca decided she would much rather return to her room and sleep than let her try and be disappointed. This way, they were both satisfied. She smiled to herself as she walked through the quiet palace. What a day it had been.


End file.
